Chapter 3: Advanced Lycanthrope

There was one week left before Jackson boarded a plane to London and met up with his family. Exactly one week before his relationship with Derek came to an end. Thinking about it, Jackson wasn't sure what felt more surreal; the fact that soon their relationship would end, or the fact that it had existed in the first place. Had he really spent the last few months fucking Derek Hale? If it had just been fucking, then perhaps he could almost believe it. But he knew it had been a lot more than that as well. Had all of it seriously been real? Lying in Derek's bed at night, in his arms and telling him every fear he had, every worry for the future he'd kept inside for as long as he could remember?

The relationship played across his mind as if he were viewing a series of snapshots: lying underneath Derek in the woods and kissing him for the first time; sitting on the counter in his kitchen eating cookie dough ice-cream while Derek went down on him; holding Derek late at night and wishing he could promise him he would never leave him.

It had been real. Jackson knew that. It might have been the most real thing he'd ever felt.

"I'm telling you, it makes more sense to get the big box full of little bags than it does to just get the one big bag," Derek said, putting the enormous box of chips back into the cart, despite Jackson just having removed it. "If you take the big bag, it's going to take up all the room in your backpack. If you take a few little bags, you'll save room,"

"But then who's going to get the 20 bags of chips I don't take with me?" Jackson protested. "It's a waste,"

Derek snorted. "With Isaac around? Trust me, Jackson, the chips will get eaten,"

Jackson looked back and forth between the family size bag of Doritos in his hand, and the enormous box of snack bags that Derek had placed in the cart. He sighed. "Alright, you win," He muttered, putting the bag back. "I'll take the little bags,"

"Of course you're going to take the little bags," Derek said, pulling the family sized bag out of Jackson's hands and putting it back on the shelf. "It's the logical choice,"

Jackson rolled his eyes, and steered his cart over to the check out aisle. At the cash, they argued over who was going to pay. Jackson insisted he be the one to pay since they were his friggin' groceries, not to mention he had his Dad's credit card which basically meant endless money. Derek argued that he should be the one to pay, because he said so. After a lot of back and forth, Jackson finally won and charged the groceries to his Dad's account.

As he paid, the girl behind register smiled brightly at him.

"What?" He asked.

"Nothing," She said, handing Jackson his receipt. "You two just make a really adorable couple, is all,"

"Alright, let's go over the list one more time," Derek said. "You have your passport and ticket, right?"

They were standing in the middle of the airport, people bustling to and fro all around them. Derek stood with his hand clasped firmly on Jackson's shoulder, as if he was worried Jackson might run off at the first opportunity. Jackson had no such desire.

Jackson's eyes went wide. "Holy fuck, my passport!" He cried, feigning horror. "I left that back at your loft! Shit it was right next to my ticket, inside my luggage, which I also left. Damn.

Derek looked unimpressed. "So that means you've got it?"

"Yes, Derek, I've got it,"

"Good," Derek glanced to the side, and then pulled Jackson in for a kiss. It was only the second time Derek had ever kissed him in public, and it caught Jackson off guard. Derek pulled back quickly, and looked away again. "Sorry, I just—"

Jackson shook his head. "Don't apologize," He said, pulling Derek back towards him. He pressed his mouth against him, kissing him as hard as he could. He felt like he needed to make this kiss count, to kiss Derek for every time he wouldn't be able to again. Jackson had a lot of regrets, about things he done and things he hadn't, and as he stood there kissing Derek he wondered if leaving him would turn out to be the biggest.

They pulled apart, and Jackson felt like he couldn't breathe. He wanted to reach into his pocket and pull out his ticket, rip into a thousand pieces and throw it away. He wanted to tell Derek he would never leave him, because they were meant for each other. And sure, Jackson was young and he was stupid and all he ever did was ruin everything, but he knew it was true anyways. Everything that had happened that summer, every moment since he'd woken up coughing ashes in Derek's burnt up old house told him it was true. They'd been made to find each other, find each other through everything terrible thing that had ever happened, they'd made it through all of it just to be together. Jackson knew it like a fact of life. Fire was made to burn, and snow was made to melt and Jackson had been made for Derek to kill, and to love and to be with for fucking ever.

And now Jackson was going to walk away from all of it.

"Promise you're not gonna forget me, alright?" Jackson mumbled. "Of all the people you ever kill, I want to be the most special, okay?"

Derek looked at him, love and heartbreak and the whole tragedy of the situation written all over his face. "You will be," He promised. Jackson smiled, and leaned in for one last kiss. "Promise me something, too," Derek said. Jackson looked at him. "You're always so quick to remind everyone that you died... that I killed you... sometimes I think you forget something,"

Jackson raised an eyebrow. "What's that?"

"You died, Jackson," Derek said. "But you came back," Derek reached up, and brushed a piece of hair off Jackson's forehead. "Try and remember that, alright? You're alive, Jackson. So promise me when you get to London, you'll live,"

Jackson nodded. "Alright," He said, wondering how the hell he was ever going to accomplish that. "I'll live,"

Derek smiled at him, the sad broken smile of someone who was used to being left behind by those he loved. He kissed Jackson once more, very gently. And that was all.

ONE YEAR LATER

Jackson raced through the kitchen, grabbing and apple from the counter and his backpack from the floor. "Back after dinner!" He called, heading to the front door.

"Wait, wait!" his mother called, rushing after him. "Where are you going and who will you be with?"

Jackson rolled his eyes, begrudgingly halting at the door. "Training session with the pack, at Norths," He said

"Oh," She said. "So you're going to be seeing Chanda?"

"Well, since she is my alpha, and is this a pack training session," Jackson said slowly. "Yeah, I'd guess she'd be there."

Jessica Whittemore was not impressed. "You could just say yes, you know,"

"Mom, come on, I'm already late—"

"Just tell her that the sale's been moved from this Sunday to next," She said. "And I called and asked and they will have that nail polish she likes, so we should go early in case it sells out,"

Jackson groaned. It wasn't that he had a problem with the fact that his mother had befriended his alpha, it was just... well, it was just weird. "Right, I'll tell her," He said. His mother began to say something else, but he was already out the door.

He was meeting his pack at the community centre by their college, where six of them went to school and their alpha, a muslim woman named Chanda Kapoor, worked as a professor, teaching history. They typically met up three or four times a week for training, and this was the third time this week that Jackson was late.

When he raced into the gym, every member of his pack was already there, busy sparing and training.

"You're late," Chanda said, striding over as Jackson set his bag down.

"I know, but—"

She held up a hand. "Don't bother, Whittemore. Save your stories for creative writing, I'm sure Professor Lewis would appreciate them more than I," She crossed her arms, and looked him over. "Go spar with Caitlyn,"

Jackson nodded. "Uh, also, my mom said to tell you the sale was moved to next Sunday,"

Chanda's face fell slightly, shifting from disdain to slightly child-like disappointment. "Was it? That's a shame, I was looking forward..."

"Yeah, but she said they'll have that nail polish you like, so you guys should go early,"

"Oh?" She said, perking back up slightly. "Well, at least there's that then..." She looked pleased for a moment, and then turned stern again. "Sparring, now. And thank you for relaying the information, give Jessica the best from me, will you?"

Jackson nodded, and muttered that he would. He went over to the blond girl stretching by the mirror. "Hey," he greeted.

She nodded in response. "Boss lady chew you out?" She asked.

Jackson shrugged. "Not much," He said. "I've gotten worse,"

Caitlyn grinned. "Bet you have," She said. She put up her fists and got into position. "Come on then,"

"Loser buys drinks after," He said, readying himself to fight. Caitlyn nodded, and they began. Jackson had come far in his year in London, and his fighting had improved immensely. It used to be that he struggled to spar while recalling what techniques to use. Now it all came naturally. Anticipating his opponents moves, knowing what to use to block and counter their attack.

Although Jackson would always hesitate to call Derek a "good" teacher, he had turned out to be... effective. When he'd begun training with Chanda's pack, his skills had been on level with everyone else's, despite them having been werewolves for longer than he had. And while Chanda proved to be a tough teacher, and a stern alpha, she would never be anywhere close to Derek's level of irritating difficulty.

Jackson decided that was more or less a good thing.

"Hey, did I hear you're going around with that new guy, Jordan something?" Caitlyn asked, dodging Jackson's punch and moving around to counter.

"His name is Jared, and no we're not together," Jackson replied, grabbing her leg as she tried to hit him with a high kick. She pivoted and bent her knee, then smacked him in the face with her elbow. Jackson put her in a chokehold, which she got out of by lifting him up, throwing him over her shoulder and slamming him into the floor. "Ow,"

"Why not?"

"Don't know," Jackson said, grunting the words as he and Caitlyn struggled together. Finally he was able to get on top of her, and pinned her to the ground. "We're just not,"

"Stupid," Caitlyn grunted, not able to get much more out in her current position.

Truth be told, she wasn't wrong. Jackson knew his reasons for not getting into anything serious with Jared—who was by all accounts a perfectly nice, and definitely sexy guy—were pretty stupid. Stupid, in the sense that he didn't really have any reasons. He just... didn't want him.

It wasn't the first time this had happened. Jackson had gone around with a few people over the last year—mostly men, which he was discovering he preferred—but none of them had turned into anything worth mentioning.

At times, Jackson pretended he didn't know why. Maybe none of them had been right for him, maybe he just preferred to be single...

But that was all bullshit, and he knew it.

After a few more minutes of struggling together, Caitlyn finally tapped out, and Jackson let her go. She sighed, and picked herself up. "So later, at Dameron's Pub?" He asked, grinning. Caitlyn glared, at nodded stiffly. "Nice. Hey, guys," He said, signalling to the rest of the pack. "We're meeting at Dameron's later, drinks on Cait!"

The others cheered and whooped, and Caitlyn's eyes turned a blazing yellow. "Whittmore, you snake!" She said. Jackson's smile dropped slightly for a second. "I never said I'd treat everyone!"

Jackson shrugged. "Sorry, must have misunderstood," He said. "I—" Jackson froze, the hair standing up on the back of his neck. Something came over him, a strange sensation—no, a scent. He'd caught the scent of someone who'd just walked into the room.

"Holy guacamole," Caitlyn standing, looking at something behind Jackson. "Who the hell is that?"

Jackson didn't have to turn around to know. He was surprised he hadn't recognized his scent the moment he'd walked into the building. Or hell, the country.

He turned around slowly anyways, barely trusting what his other senses were telling him was true until he saw him with his own eyes. That was a human trait, Derek always said. Only believing something when you saw it with your eyes. Stupid, really, to only believe in what you can see.

Still, it wasn't until Jackson turned around and saw Derek standing there across the room, talking to Chanda, that the breath truly left his lungs.

"You know him?" Caitlyn asked, eyes moving over Jackson's face and reading what was probably a very stunned expression. Jackson swallowed. "Oh, you know him?"

"Yeah," Jackson said. "I know him,"

Jackson walked down the street next to Derek, feeling slightly numb and surreal. He had no idea to say to Derek, how to act or what to do. He hadn't heard from Derek in over six months, not a single word. And sure, they hadn't communicated a lot once Jackson had moved to London, but for the first few months there had been the occasional e-mail or phone call, an update on how the other was doing. And then, suddenly, there had been nothing.

Part of Jackson was furious. He wanted to shout and scream at Derek that he had no right to show up here like this, no right to just waltz back into his life as easily as he'd tap danced out of it. He wanted to tell him to get back on the first flight to Beacon Hills, and never again do any kind of dance in to or out of his life again.

The other part of Jackson just wanted to kiss him. Desperately.

"Jackson?"

"Hmm?"

Derek raised an eyebrow, and Jackson realized he must have said something to him. "Oh, uh, what?"

"I said Chanda, she seems nice," Derek said. "She's a good alpha?"

"Oh, yeah, she's great," Jackson said. Once, Jackson thought, he would have teased him. A better alpha than you... Somehow, it didn't feel right now. "The whole pack is,"

Derek nodded, and put his hands in his pockets. "Good," He said. "That's... good..."

There was a moment of silence which seemed to stretch out towards eternity. Jackson hated this, this strange awkwardness between them. How did you get over that, make it go away? Could he just chose to ignore it? Somehow he doubted it.

"So, how long are you in town for?" Jackson asked, just out of desperation for something to say.

Derek shrugged. "Oh, you know," He said. Another shrug. Jackson stared at him, and waited for a more definitive answer. None came, and another silence followed. Jackson thought it was going to drive him crazy.

They walked on for few more minutes, and just as Jackson was seriously beginning to consider screaming at him, just to fill the fucking silence, someone called Jackson's name.

"Jackson, hey, wait up!"

Jackson turned around, and almost groaned. "Oh, hey, Jared," Jackson said, running his fingers through his hair.

Jared smiled at him, but it didn't quite meet his eyes. "Hey," He said. His eyes flickered over to Derek. "Whats up?"

Jackson shrugged. "Nothing, just, um..." He noticed that Jared was looking at Derek again. "This is Derek, my—he's my friend, from back home. Derek, this is Jared,"

"Nice to meet you, Derek," Jared said, extending his hand politely. Derek looked at it, and at Jackson, and then back at Jared again before shaking it.

"So, I'll see you later then, I guess?" Jared said, still eyeing Derek.

"Yeah," Jackson replied. "See you later,"

Jared nodded, and walked off. Derek watched him go. "He seems nice," Derek said, once Jared was out of sight. "How long has that been going on?"

Jackson glared at him, and started off down the street. "It's not," He said.

Derek snorted. "Clearly there was something there," He said, trailing after Jackson. "It's fine, Jackson. It's not like I expected you to wait for me," Jackson gritted his teeth, and said nothing. "I mean, I was with someone, too,"

Jackson stopped in his tracks and whipped around. "What?" He felt like he'd been slapped in the face. Somehow, in all the time he'd missed him, the possibility of Derek being with another person had never occurred to him. A horrible thought came over him then, something that had never before crossed him mind: had Derek moved on?

Derek glanced away. "I just mean, it's fine if you've moved on," He said. "I have,"

Well, that answered that.

Jackson didn't know how to respond. He felt as if he needed a moment to compose himself, to figure out how he was feeling and what he wanted to say. Instead of doing that, and trying to come up with a mature response to the difficult situation, he just blurted out the first thing that came to mind: "I've been with loads of people,"

Derek raised his eyebrows. "Excuse me?"

"Yeah, it's not just Jared," Jackson retorted. "First there was Oscar, and then John and Daisy, and then Oscar again because he was really good," He said. "And then a few others, who I can't remember. Jared's just the latest in a long line," He crossed his arms over his chest, and waited.

Derek's eyes flashed red for a second. "Her name was Braeden, she's a druid. Incredibly resourceful, and beautiful. We dated for months,"

"Well, good," Jackson spat. "Frickin' fantastic. Well I wish you and Braeden all the best, I really do. She sounds like a real keeper. Go get married and have creepy little half druid half werewolf babies together!"

Derek looked away. "This has been fun, Jackson, but I didn't come all this way just to see you," He said. "I've got things to do, so..."

"Great," Jackson snapped. "Go do them then,"

With one last, furious look, Derek turned around and walked off down the busy London streets. Jackson watched him go, hating himself with every step.

"And then, I said 'so go get married and have creepy little half druid half werewolf babies together!'" Jackson mumbled. He took another sip of beer. "And he left,"

Caitlyn nodded, giving him look that was part sympathy, part pity. "Well it sounds like it was a very mature conversation," She said, patting him on the back.

Jackson looked glumly at his drink. "Not really, no," He muttered. "His fault though, he started it. Stupid bastard, how dare he move on," He took another drink, and not for the first time that year, desperately wished he could actually get drunk.

Caitlyn sighed, and took a sip of her own drink. "Men, you're all so bloody thick,"

Jackson raised an eyebrow. "That's a funny way of cheering me up,"

"Jackson, Derek didn't come all the way to London just to tell you he moved on," Caitlyn said. "That doesn't make any sense! Think about it with your adult brain, for a moment,"

Jackson frowned. "Yeah, but he also said he didn't come all the way here just for me," He said. "he said he had other things to do,"

"My guess," Caitlyn said. "Would be that he lied,"

"You... think so?" Jackson said slowly. He thought over their exchange. Everything had been fine—albeit awkward—until Jared had shown up. That's when Derek had said what he did about moving on... was it possible he'd only said he'd moved on because he thought Jackson had? "Fuck, I'm such an idiot,"

Caitlyn nodded. "Mmhmm, yes," She agreed. "Absolutely,"

When Derek pulled open the door to his hotel room, he looked genuinely surprised to see Jackson standing there. "Jackson, what—" He looked around, although Jackson was unsure what for. "How did you find me?"

"Are you kidding?" Jackson asked. "After all that time we spent training to find the alpha back in Beacon Hills? I could find you anywhere," He stepped closer, and poked his finger against Derek's chest. "See? Found you,"

Derek looked away. "Jackson, I... we..."

"I'm coming in," Jackson said, moving past Derek. "We have some things to talk about,"

"Yeah?" Derek asked, closing the door behind him. "Like what?"

Jackson breathed in deeply. "When I said I'd been with lots of people this year, that wasn't a lie," He said. "I really have been,"

Derek folded his arms over his chest. "You came all the way here just to tell me that?" He asked.

"Yes. No!" Jackson said. "What I mean is... I was with so many different people because... because no one person ever stuck. So I just moved on from one person to another..." He waved his hand. "It was never anything serious. I never wanted anything serious, never wanted to start something real. And I told myself it was for a lot of different reasons but I think—well, I know—that the truth is..." He swallowed. "It's because this whole time, I've been waiting for you. And maybe I shouldn't have... but I did,"

Derek looked skeptical. "So... Jared...?"

"Was nothing serious," Jackson finished. "He was nice... but he was nothing..." He stepped closer to Derek. "Nothing compared to you," He looked up at Derek, and found him searching his face, as if looking to find the truth written on it. "Listen to my heart beat if you don't believe me,"

"I believe you," Derek said. Jackson smiled, but it slipped away a moment later. "I never wanted you to wait for me. I wanted you to move on... I tried to..."

"Oh," Jackson said, feeling ill. "Right, okay..." He stepped away, but Derek pulled him back.

"I said I tried," Derek said. "I didn't say I was successful,"

Jackson pulled Derek towards him and shoved his mouth against him, kissing him fiercely. It was just like the first time; he hadn't meant to do it, hadn't even realized he was going to until their lips were pressed together and his hands were in Derek's hair. And suddenly a whole year was gone, and they had never been apart, not even for a moment.

Jackson had meant what he said, about wanting to talk. He had questions he wanted to ask, things he needed to know. He'd gone to Derek with the intention of having a mature, adult conversation. Sorting out how they felt about each other, and what Derek's arrival in London meant.

All of that was forgotten as they tore off each other's clothing and collapsed on the bed.

The smell of something sweet roused Jackson from his sleep. "Derek...?" He murmured, slowly opening his eyes and looking around. On the desk next to the bed he saw trays of food: pancakes, french toast and blueberry waffles, along with different toppings and syrups. He frowned, and looked at the clock next to the bed. It was only four in the morning.

"Hey, you're awake..." Derek said, walking out of the bathroom.

"Little early for breakfast, isn't it?" Jackson asked. Derek took a seat on the edge of the bed and leaned in for a long, deep kiss. His mouth tasted like maple. "You started without me,"

Derek pulled back, and grinned. "Sorry, got hungry," He said. He went over to the desk and brought the trays over to the bed, before climbing in next to Jackson.

"How did you get them to make all of this at four in the morning?" Jackson asked. "Isn't all the staff sleeping?"

"The menu said twenty four hour room service," Derek replied, putting some fruit on a pancake before rolling it up in a burrito and all but shoving it in his mouth. Jackson laughed and Derek smiled at him, then leaned in for another kiss. He still had syrup on his lips, and the kiss was sticky and sweet.

"Let me guess, that's why you chose this hotel," Jackson said, picking up a blueberry and popping it in his mouth.

"I swear I picked it at random," Derek said. "It is nice, though,"

"Should I try asking again how long you're in town for?" Jackson asked.

The smile slipped slightly on Derek's face, and he glanced away. "Well... that depends..." He said.

"On...?"

"On... this," He said, looking at Jackson. "On you. How long do you want me to stay?"

Jackson rolled his eyes. "Well, forever, obviously," He said. "But I mean realistically speaking," Derek shrugged, and Jackson furrowed his brow. "Derek, what's going on?"

"Did you try the waffles?" Derek asked, tearing off a corner and eating it. "Because they're good,"

"Derek—"

Derek clenched his jaw, and looked away. "They left me," He said quietly. "Isaac, Erica and Boyd... they left. Just like I knew they would."

Jackson put a hand on Derek's shoulder. "What happened?" He asked.

"About six months ago, Scott became an alpha," Derek mumbled, rubbing his eyes. "And Isaac chose him,"

"I'm sorry," Jackson said, wishing he could say something more. Something that was actually helpful to Derek, although he wasn't sure that such a thing existed. He was going to kill Isaac the next time he saw him. Or maybe call Danny, and have him do it for him, since he was in closer proximity. "And Erica and Boyd?"

"They graduated early, and went travelling before they go to school... in New York,"

"Well, they didn't leave you then," Jackson said. "They just... left town."

"Either way, they left,"

Jackson rubbed his back."I'm sorry, Derek," He said again, because it was the only thing he had to say. "I'm really sorry,"

Derek shrugged. "It's alright, I mean everyone has to move on eventually..."

Jackson gave him a look. "Come on, it's me. You don't have to do that,"

The look in Derek's eyes made Jackson's heart break. "I failed," He said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I failed them all,"

"You didn't fail, alright? This is just life..." Jackson said. "Things happen. Things we can't control, things that are... really, really shitty. But you pick yourself up, and you move on. You keep living," He pressed his lips against Derek's cheek, and ran his fingers through his hair. "Just like you told me, remember?"

"I don't think I said all of that," Derek mumbled.

"Yeah, well... I also had some input from therapist Dr. Richard Nygard,"

"Hmm, how's that going?"

"Good, actually," Jackson said.

"Well, that's good," Derek said. He looked up at Jackson. "Jackson, I know it's not fair for me to just come back into your life like this but... I just thought, if there was any chance that there was something still between us... I thought maybe I could..."

Jackson stared at him. "Doesn't it make more sense to go to New York?" He asked, unsure even as he said it as to why he was saying it. "Stay with Erica and Boyd, be a pack there. I mean, there's two of them and only one of me,"

Obviously this was not the response Derek was looking for. Jackson saw his jaw clench. "Yeah, I guess that makes more sense," He said. "I just thought—" He shook his head. "I don't know what I thought," He turned away.

Jackson opened his mouth, and then closed it again. He wasn't sure exactly how to word what he was feeling. "Sometimes... I think we're too similar," He said. Derek furrowed his brow. "You and me, we're too much alike... and it worries me,"

"I thought you said you hadn't moved on," Derek said, still not making eye contact.

"I haven't, but that's not the point," Jackson said. "Derek, when we got together last summer... I was miserable." Derek looked up sharply. "No, fuck—I meant I was miserable, and then we got together. After dying, after being the kanima... I hated myself. And waking up every day and living my life, it was like torture. Until we got together. When I was with you, I was finally—I felt like myself again. But I also felt like I could get away from everything, from my problems and my life and all the bullshit. When we together, it felt like it was just me and you, and nothing else mattered. And you were right."

Derek looked at him, and Jackson put a hand on his shoulder. "What you said to me, before I left. That I wasn't living? You were right. I wasn't living my life, I was running from it. And you—you gave me somewhere to run to. But I did what you said. I started to live. I mean, things haven't been great in the romance department but other than that I'm doing pretty good. I'm doing sports again, I've made friends... I feel good. Better than I have in a long time, actually,"

Derek swallowed. "And you're worried I'll get in the way of that?" He asked. He didn't sound angry, or even bitter. And Jackson knew that if he said yes, Derek would walk away without another word. It was just who he was.

"No," Jackson said. "I'm worried that you're running, and I've just given you somewhere to run to," He paused. "And if we're going to be together, I want you to be with me because you want me. Not because you want an excuse to hide from the world. I won't be that for you, Derek."

Derek nodded. "So, this past year, you've been doing good?" He asked. Jackson nodded. "Maybe you could show me how that's done," He said. "It's... probably past time that I started to live, too."

Jackson smiled. "Yeah," He said. "I could probably teach you a thing or two," He leaned in, and pressed his lips against Derek's. "Welcome to Living 101."

"The supreme happiness of life is the conviction that we are loved;
loved for ourselves, or rather in spite of ourselves."
—Victor Hugo, Les Miserables